This evening we’re going to a little farewell gathering for some friends who are leaving the island to go back home. This will definitely not be the last time we say goodbye to new friends here, but it is the first. And as I feel the loss of the great energy they bring to our social circle here and the gap their absence will leave behind – it’s getting me thinking about the nature of goodbyes.

In my adult life I’ve said the word “goodbye” a lot as we’ve moved around from place to place. I live far away from where I...

It’s been over two months since we hauled our lives across the world to a tropical island in the Caribbean Sea, and I feel like it’s been much longer. Perhaps because in truth we have been moving all year. Like waves, one change after another has washed over us in 2016 and now finally, with only one more house move to go in the next few weeks, I feel like the time is approaching when I might finally be able to stop paddling madly and lie back and float for a while, maybe take in the view.

A welcome beep of my iPhone, a What’s App message from half way around the world. A girlfriend sending a joke, telling me about her day, asking me about mine. A ream of (desperately solicited at 3am) advice on what to do about my 8 month old (who has mysteriously stopped sleeping through the night), an inspirational news story from the Rio Olympics, a photo, a microwave recipe for chocolate cake, five little words that make everything better: “It’s going to be fine.”

So, this week I have mostly been discovering the joys of jet lag with two small children, and ferociously reading up on ways to get over it (Too late! she cries…). Five days after our East to West relocation, I think we’re getting there, but who knows what tonight holds… One of the many things my second baby has taught me is that “well rested” is an extremely relative term.
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In 1998 Semisonic sang such a beautiful and poignant line: “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” It was our last year of school at the time, and as far as my friends and I were concerned, the lyric may as well have been written exclusively for us. We danced to Closing Time, clinging to each other and swearing that the passing of the years wouldn’t change our friendship.

I’m really happy to be publishing my first Chat with a “Repat”. This feature has come about partly as a result of my nosiness (I love to hear other people’s stories), but mostly because, as an expat, I find the concept of “going home” absolutely fascinating, and I wanted to ask people who’ve done it what the experience was like for them. So here’s the first of what I hope will be many interviews with people who have gone home – in every sense of the word.

Terri-Anne Boers is a physiotherapist and mum of two. Four years ago she moved from London...

“Where are you from?” This is the question that, as an expat, I’m asked more often than any other. I always have to hesitate. Where is home? Is it where I was born? Or where I grew up? Is it where I first shared a home with my husband? Where we first became parents? Where our second daughter completed our family? Where my parents live? For me, none of the above applies to the same place. So I feel like little (and not so little) pieces of my history and my self are scattered around the world – where exactly...

I know this isn’t the first time you’ve upped and moved, but that doesn’t mean it gets easier. In some ways, it’s harder every time – you’ve gathered more stuff, you now have another set of friends you’ll only see on Facebook, and each year you (and your kids) get older, moving is that much more emotional.

So take it easy on yourself if you have days when it all gets a bit too much. Here are some mantras to keep in your back pocket and pull out when you start to feel overwhelmed.

About Catherine

Wife, mum, tea drinker, shoe lover, South African Brit who has just moved from Switzerland to the Bahamas. I write about life with my littles, travel, health, style, perfect cups of tea and other lovely things that bring sunshine to a life.